Spengler Among the Nightingales
by Dommi-chan
Summary: Egon sleeps, perchance to dream. Peter makes colour commentary. And good times were had by all.


Spengler Among the Nightingales  
A "Wow what was she on?" RGB fic  
By Dommi-chan  
  
Isn't it fun how surreal getting inside people's heads can be? A short character-study disguised as a tripped-out dream sequence. I picked Egon because he's my favourite and someone with as active an intellect as his would probably have some royally funky dreams. Peter's his companion because…well, they are best friends and Peter IS a shrink by trade. It works. Or something.  
  
This is PG just because of Peter's mouth. There are a few things I'm going to explain at the end, but not much. That's why Dr. V's here, folks. Dream dictionaries not required, but encouraged. I don't own anything but the plot…well, what little of it there is.   
  
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"Peter? You…it is you, Peter?"  
  
"Got it in one."  
  
"Why are you dressed like that?"  
  
"This number? Yeah, it's kinda last season, but hey. With my hips, I can pull it off."  
  
"I see. Any particular reason for the dog ears and paws?"  
  
"There's a tail too, Spengs."  
  
"Of course there is."  
  
"As for the reason, nothing major. Typical subconscious showings of your opinions on my personality. A physical manifestation of the side you feel I keep hidden from others."  
  
"Oh." A pause. "Or it could just be a reflection on your ways with women?"  
  
"Nah. You're way too deep for that cliché. Besides, when I think of catty people I sure as shit don't think of you."  
  
"Catty...? You know how strongly I dislike non sequiturs. My attachment to gossip or lack thereof has no bearing on this conversation."  
  
"Puns just fly by you, don't they? And given the ears, paws, and tail you've got going on, I'd say it has a good deal of bearing on this conversation."  
  
A temporary halt as ears were felt and prodded. "Hmmm. Fascinating. If this indicates anything, are you going to be chasing me shortly?"  
  
"Already did. How else do you think I found you?"  
  
"Touché. Although these changes to our physical appearances are disconcerting."  
  
"Change happens, Spengs. Everything changes, that way nothing gets lost."  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"So spill it, Spengs. Whatcha got in the sack?"  
  
"Tobin's Spirit Guide…I think." A pause for rummaging. "Yes, Tobin's, plus my PKE meter, a sprig of wistaria, a tablecloth, and a coffee cup. Although, none of these items seem particularly useful in my current situation."  
  
A dismissive wave of a paw. "Useful ain't what matters. The Journey…now the journey, that's what matters!"  
  
"I see."  
  
"No you don't."  
  
"…You're right. I don't. Where are we?"  
  
"Dunno, buddy, it's your head. Your dream. Your road less traveled. Besides, like I said, the journey's all that's significant."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"It goes a little something like this: who cares where you end up or where you start as long as the ride is good?"  
  
"In other words, my traveling in this subconscious realm is merely symbolic of a path I am taking in my life."  
  
"Again, got it in one. You always were the smartest cookie in the package."  
  
"Then I suppose heading north is as good an option as any. I believe Raymond and Winston are currently somewhere in that direction."  
  
"That'd be a big no. Ray the Lamb and Winston the Wolf are busy playing Parcheesi out west. It's just you and me for this one."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They're just a representation of your childhood wish for siblings and companionship, anyhow. They're not actually relevant here tonight."  
  
"Peter, I realize that you have been under an intense strain of late due to it being our busy season and the articles you have been writing, but this weird reprioritizing of your mental monarchy---"  
  
"'Mental monarchy'? What, are you going for the Nobel in alliteration?"  
  
"You caught me unawares. And don't change the subject. I am merely stating that there is no logical rationale for you to assert such ideas."  
  
"Logical? Spengs in case it's slipped your brain, this is a dream. Logic need not apply." A paw poking into the other man's chest. "Anyways, it's your fault that I'm acting like this."  
  
"My fault? How could I possibly control your actions?"  
  
"This ain't my dream, sweetheart. It's yours, or did you forget that too?"  
  
"It is, isn't it? Well, then I shall bid you farewell. Go on, leave. Back to the Fire Hall. Off with you!"  
  
"Only if you do that quaint little look-over-your-glasses-then-push-them-up-Egon's-annoyed-face."  
  
"Look-over-my…I am not here to amuse, Peter. Go home."  
  
"Gimme just a sec, Spengs. Got something I wanna ask first."  
  
"All right, what?"  
  
"Any particular reason why the cape? I mean, the suit I get, but I'm not playing the superhero here, or even just a hero in general. What's with the cape?"  
  
A roll of eyes. "To protect you from the harsh weather conditions, I suppose."  
  
"Right, as in not right at all. You do realize that cloaks and other such clothing typically mean you want someone to stand out more? So by placing me in one, you're pretty much…."  
  
"By any other name...sometimes a rose is just a rose."  
  
"Yeah, and sometimes 'Denial' is just a river in Egypt. This ain't one of them."  
  
"It is a cape, Peter. Nothing more, nothing less."  
  
"True buuuuuuuuuut…it's your dream."  
  
"Were this truly my dream, you would have left when I first requested it of you. The reasoning for you being here is lacking in scientific explanation at best and is nonsensical at the least, and therefore…."  
  
"Then explain this to me. What do you think that thick subconscious of yours is trying to say to you?"  
  
"Are you on the clock, Dr. Venkman? I do not recall ever asking if I could become one of your patients."  
  
"You're no patient, Spengs. You're a friend, who's currently having some sort-of deep philosophical dream that is attempting to deliver a message with yours truly being dragged along for the ride. So, being that in this case, knowledge equals ignorance (of the falsified or real type, we're not quite sure), what's the what here? What is it you think you need to do, or not do? What's eating you, you beautiful, blond genius?"  
  
"Nothing is 'eating me,' as you so tastefully put it."  
  
"Uh huh. And the overwhelming symbolism just backs that up completely. You are seriously the worst liar in history, and considering we both know Ray, that's saying something. I know you're not big on the personal info sharing, but throw me a fucking bone here."  
  
"Interesting choice of expression."  
  
"Thanks. I try. Stop dodging."  
  
"Peter…."  
  
"Okay, here's what I think your deal is. Here we all are, we're not getting any younger, and some days you question if you're going down the right road. Hence the fact that there is a beaten path and you opted for the road less worn by tourists; obviously it's your career. And seeing as how determined you are to finish it, you're pretty much convinced that you made the right choice. I mean you're still walking it. Miles to go or whatever, right? You with me?"  
  
"Thus far."  
  
"So then, you say "hey even if I made the right choice, is it worth it? I'm just by myself after all, can't let anyone in, got no friends to catch me if I fall." Then you realize that I'm here and you're not by yourself. Then you realize "hey wait he's not going anywhere even though I'm holding back and telling him to fuck off." So there's your answer."  
  
"What answer? You just said yourself I'm telling you to leave and you are (rather disrespectfully, might I add) refusing my requests."  
  
"Because even though it's your head I'm here by choice. I ain't going anywhere, Spengs. Neither are Ray and Winston. So quit your bitching, stop your fussing, and get over yourself. You've got friends and we're not letting you go. The insecurity and the holding back aren't needed here."  
  
A few minutes of silence while thoughts were mulled over. "I hate it when you are right."  
  
"Well, process of elimination really. It's either that or something so Freudian it'd make even me blush. Given that Peter is Peter and you are yourself, I went with the more-practical-less-San Franciscan option."  
  
"I am familiar with Freud's work, and I see your point. Although, truth be told, were Ali MacGraw in your place…."  
  
"Ali MacGraw, hmmm?"  
  
"Do shut up, Peter."  
  
"The 'love means never having to say you're sorry' chick?"  
  
"I believe I told you to shut up."  
  
"Good taste, man. She is gorgeous!"  
  
"Why are you still talking?"  
  
"Hmmm…perhaps someone's a bit more sexually frustrated than we previously thought."  
  
A sigh. "I honestly question why I bother."  
  
"Sheesh, Spengs. It's not like I'm asking you to dream her up so that the three of us…."  
  
"I am imploring you not to finish that sentence."  
  
"…Could go somewhere and have dinner. Wow, you really are sexually frustrated. You'd never cut me off assuming I was making an innuendo in reality…you'd just let me make it and then insult me."  
  
"When my subconscious placed you here, I seriously doubt it was to embarrass me. If you wouldn't mind refraining from doing so?"  
  
"Hey Spengs, familiar with the phrase 'still waters run deep'?"  
  
"Peter."  
  
"How about 'repression and sublimation'? Wait a minute…that's why you work so much, isn't it?"  
  
"I think I should wake up. Now."  
  
"Fine, fine. I see how it is, "if you can't take the heat..." and all that. Call me when you wanna go through your issues with your father."  
  
"I have already made my peace with…all right, fine."  
  
"Well, then that's my cue. Exit, stage left!"  
  
"Indeed, especially considering how finely honed my internal clock is."  
  
"No kidding. I've always noticed that you get up before the damn alarms even go off."  
  
"Force of habit. You said you will be returning, correct?"  
  
"Naturally! It's much more interesting here than at home. Plus, no Slimer. Definite perk."  
  
"Hmmm. Right. I am going to return to the land of the living now."  
  
"Hey, you do that. And remember to rest in peace, Spengs."  
  
"Your sense of humour leaves much to be desired. Farewell."  
  
*~* Game Over *~*  
  
Okay the things I need to explain…the title is a reference to the T.S. Eliot poem "Sweeney Among the Nightingales." It's a kind-of complicated short poem, so I won't even try to explain it here, but there are several things that are references to that poem in this fic. There are also references to Robert Frost, The Sandman, and Snagglepuss if you can spot them. As for Egon's prognosis, well I just went on what I know/opinions forged from the show. Anything I didn't mention here is up to you, the reader, to figure out. (If you get stumped, then you can email me and ask. :-D) 


End file.
